


Even Though We're Parting Further Away

by anfuu, Kitshunette



Series: more than a persocon [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, collaboration with kitshu, death just faintly mentioned, or am i so thirsty for iwaoi death fic, persocom au, thanks a lot !!, will i ever write a fanfic where they will both be fine and alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anfuu/pseuds/anfuu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitshunette/pseuds/Kitshunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The note on the fridge laughed at him, and at how pathetic he looked.</p>
<p>He will never be able to replace Iwaizumi Hajime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thinking of how I could help you

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song Kyrie Eleison !  
> It's set in the Persocom AU, so yeah, it's the story of Oikawa and Iwaizumi ! Thank you Kitshu for participating in it <3 Love you u3u  
> It was supposed to make my sister suffer because she was rude to me !!  
> This chapter has been done by Kitshu entirely, please support her ! Her ao3 account is [Kitshunette](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitshunette) !
> 
> Enjoy ~

 

 

The post-it was still on the fridge.

Oikawa had moved in and out several times now, bought and broke fridges and abused his warranty rights probably more times than was morally correct; and yet, the note was still stuck on his white cold door, no matter what kind of catastrophe happened to the flat or house he was currently occupying, no matter if hellfire started raining on his roof or if the Pacific Ocean suddenly decided to relocate in his messy kitchen.

The messages had long been lost, along his phone and his computer, in a blurry night during which he just remembered he had kicked a lot of things and cried as much. The housekeeper had rung the next day to ask him if the mess on the pavement was his doing. Oikawa had just stared blankly at his laptop crashed in pieces on the concrete, little bits rolling on the road and flying right and left with every passing car, crushed mercilessly and discarded to an uninterested wind.

All their pictures were in there, half of them neatly sorted by date and place and the other half freely swimming around a bunch of folders branded with not quite explicit names. Oikawa had always said that he would sort them out later, and it had always owed him an annoyed and sharp poke in the ribs as his best friend plugged in his hard drive to share his maniacally classified high quality pictures.

They had printed out a few of them, not many, just the best. Always the best. Oikawa had pointed out that only one could be best by definition, and Iwa-chan had wacked him on the head with the album.

And then there had been a fire, and the album had disappeared in ashes.

It was sad, but they didn’t think too much of it at that time; they still had the numerical files anyway, and time to make other memories and take even better pictures. Mostly, they had just been so glad that no one had been hurt.

Now, they were gone. Completely gone.

And the post-it was still there.

 

*

_DON’T BE LATE YOU ASS_

*

 

Once again, Hajime’s inner circuits beeped in confusion as his arm jerked forward and his fist collided with his master’s forehead, sending him backwards. The tall young man stumbled towards the wall before tripping on the carpet and landing heavily on the side of the couch, barely making a sound. He didn’t even lift an arm to check the place where he had been hit. He just kept his head down, staring fiercely at something on the floor, and even though his hair was hiding most of his face, Hajime could still see from the tightness of his jaw that his master was madly clenching his teeth.

The young man had made him hit him, and yet he was unhappy.

And the android didn’t understand why.

He did know that ice was good for humans in these cases though, so he swiftly went to the kitchen to fetch some. Like everytime someone passed in front of it, the old rumpled post-it in faded yellow fluttered when he opened and closed the freezer’s door, and Hajime blinked at it. The ink was mostly gone now, barely a greyish mark stubbornly surviving the sunlight and accidental journeys in the sink.

He always felt strange when he saw that note, as if a pair of eyes was watching him and frowning at his confusion. As if his original was scowling at his inability to fulfill what he had been created for – to be a second chance, to be the vessel of the happiness that was so unfairly reaped away from his master.

And yet, he was obviously doing something wrong, and it distressed him not to know what.

He had been programmed for love, and he dispensed it unconditionally. He loved his master, and cared for him, and yet with every day that passed the young man seemed to sink a little more in the depths of unhappiness, a gloomy expression settling longer and longer on his features everytime.

Hajime had been told by some of his master’s acquaintances that his original had a special way to show his affections, and it was why the young man had programmed a specific kind of tone to trigger a punch from him. Hajime’s database told him that it happened when his master sounded “overly cocky”.

It was a very strange thing for the android, because violence had never been integrated in his programs. He was a domestic model, part of an avant-garde series allowing humans to choose their Persocom’s physical features, but also and more importantly, their personalities. As to ensure that they wouldn’t be used in any ways that could cause harm to people, violence had been contained in a safelock in their programs. His master seemed to have overridden it somehow, but everytime Hajime had to hit him, his movements were sloppy and weak and eventually put the human in an appalling mood.

Once, the young man had yelled at him and made him punch him so many times in a row that Hajime’s circuits had gotten dizzy and he had ended landing his fist in his own face.

His master had stared at him in shock, and then started laughing. That laugh had sounded like way too much like sobbings to Hajime’s automated ears.

And that stupid post-it was still staring down at him.

“Any advice?” he frowned at the piece of paper, and the note offered a contemptuous lack of reply.

_Figure it out yourself, you idiot._

Hajime’s frown turned into a storm cloud on his face, and he was tempted to rip the post-it off and throw it in the trash where it should have gone years ago.

But he couldn’t. He knew that he couldn’t.

It held too much emotional value for his master, and he had been connected to his master’s needs. That note was supposed to be protected.

So even when it was the human himself who ripped off and threw it on the floor, Hajime would pick it up, smooth it the best he could, and stick it back on the white door of a fridge that couldn’t care less about all that drama.

Hajime was almost envious of the fridge. Which was horrendously stupid.

He sighed heavily and scampered to the living-room with a pack of ice in one hand and the heavy weight of helplessness on his mechanical heart.

 

*

 

“Awww come on, can I not get a discount for awesome customer service at least?” Oikawa whined, then tried to give the florist his cutest pout and puppy eyes. The shopkeeper just returned a large grin that actually accomplished the feat of being both burning as the flames of hell and freezing as a cold star. It didn’t discourage the lousy customer that the Persocom seller was though, and Hajime just sighed and left his master’s side to go wandering in the rows of flowers.

“Oh, hello!”

Hajime turned back and was greeted with a smile that triggered strange images of sunshine and flower fields in his head. In front of him, the Persocom his master had sold to the florist was beaming at him, a pot of tulips in his hand.

“Hello,” he grinned back. The gray-haired android beeped happily, then stepped away to carefully put the tulips down on a shelf. As he turned, his shirt slipped down a little, revealing the metal screws on the nape of his neck. They shone briefly in the sunlight coming from the large glass windows.

“My name is Suga now.”

Hajime started a little, then swiftly diverted his eyes from the metallic pieces to focus back on the other android’s face. The apparent screws had disappeared with the third generation of Persocoms, and “Suga” was actually the last second generation android they had in store. Old models weren’t produced anymore, and barely anyone outside of collectors bought the remaining ones anyway, especially not for business assistance.

But it wasn’t Hajime’s place to judge, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Congratulations,” he said heartfeltly. “I hope everything is going well here.”

Suga grinned warmly.

“Oh, yes!” he glanced back at the cash desk area where the two humans were engaged in some sort of cold confrontation based on polite and stinging digs thrown in each other’s directions. The fair-skinned android’s features relaxed into a soft smile, and his eyes shone with something that made Hajime’s mechanical guts feel all fuzzy and warm.

A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed with difficulty.

“Iwa-chan!” his master suddenly called, startling him. The tall man was waving in his direction, a bouquet of chrysanthemum in one hand and a wide smile on his face.

His smile felt cold and cruel.

“I’ll be leaving now,” Hajime excused himself. “Goodbye.”

Suga smiled and nodded back.

“Let me walk you to the door.”

Before he completely exited the shop, Hajime glanced back a last time. Suga had slid to his human’s side, and Hajime could see the man’s left arm slipped around the android’s waist.

But more than the discreet and yet obvious sign of affection, what caught Hajime’s attention was the brief look the shopkeeper threw at them before swiftly diverting his eyes. Actually, it happened so quickly that if Hajime didn’t have a top-of-the-art vision device, he could have thought that he was mistaken.

But he knew what he had seen.

The florist’s eyes were filled with a pained darkness, and they were staring directly at him.

 

*

 

“Did they look happy to you?”

Suga tilted his head curiously and blinked a couple of times. Daichi’s jaw was tight, and the android could feel that his whole body was somewhat tense.

He hummed thoughtfully.

“They didn’t look particularly unhappy, but it’s hard to judge from here. Why?”

Daichi didn’t reply, just tightening his hold on the android’s waist with an absent look.

 

*

 

“OUT!”

Hajime barely dodged the plate thrown in his direction.

“I don’t want to see your face anymore – GET OUT!”

His master’s voice was shaking badly, but the force of the order still hit him in the guts like a truck. Without waiting for the young man to find something else to throw at him, Hajime swiftly made for the door, his artificial heart pounding madly in his chest.

He didn’t stop running until he had reached the end of the street and turned the corner. There, his feet decided to come to an abrupt stop, making him trip from the momentum and reaching out to the wall to keep his balance. He felt as cold as if someone had locked him in a freezer, and he wasn’t sure his heart was going to be able to bear the mad signals it was receiving from everywhere.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture the calm and steady ticking of a clock.

After a moment, his systems’ regulation programs took over again and his heartbeat slowed down to a normal pace. The weird feeling of cold drew back, but didn’t completely leave him. Somewhere above, the sun of spring lazily reached out its rays and brushed his skin with their warmth.

It was a beautiful day.

It was a beautiful day, and it had been five years since Hajime Iwaizumi had died.

 

*

 

Hajime felt slightly stupid, wandering through the colourful aisles of the supermarket and grabbing about anything he knew his master liked eating. But he really had no other idea of what to do, and in these cases, his basic database just took over and flooded him with hopefully useful information. It was like entering a confused question in a search engine and hoping that the first result was relevant and would be fruitful.

In this particular case, the digits in his brain had answered to his panic by pushing a very special sentence in the front of his mind: babies cry when they are hungry.

Hajime frowned again, highly doubting the suitability of this knowledge with his problems, but it was better than sitting on the side of the road staring at nothing. An old lady had even given him a few notes with a compassionate and sad look, thinking that he was homeless.

It had confused him at first, and then it had embarrassed him.

And now it scared him.

What if his master meant every word he had said?

_I don’t want to see your face anymore – GET OUT!_

It wasn’t the first time that the young man lost his temper and said hurtful things, but it usually passed fairly quickly. Their furniture suffered a bit too, but overall not too much damage was ever done.

But today felt different.

Maybe it was because it was the anniversary of his original’s death. His master hadn’t let him go with him past the gates of the cemetery. When he had come back, he had refused to look at him in the eyes.

Maybe it was one of those complex human emotions that Hajime couldn’t completely get the grasp of, although he had a fairly complete and exhaustive encoding.

Or maybe his master was just hungry.

Hajime grabbed a pack of milk and placed it in his basket.

 

*

 

“Hello again!”

Hajime blinked in surprise when he heard the cheerful greeting. Taking quick notice of his surroundings, he realized he had somehow wandered back to the flower shop. The shopkeeper and his assistant were in the middle of closing, and Suga was smiling warmly at him, the voluptuous petal of a red rose tickling his nose. The florist briefly paused when he saw the newly arrived android, something strange flashing in his eyes, then he nodded in his direction before stepping inside again with a couple of flower pots in his hands.

Part of Hajime wanted to ask the human why he was looking at him so weirdly, but the urge died almost as soon as it had come up. He felt tired. And he wasn’t supposed to feel tired. The shopping bag in his hand felt like heavy bricks of lead.

The smile on Suga’s face wavered a bit, leaving place to a concerned look. Hajime forced the corners of his mouth to lift just a bit in what he hoped was a reassuring expression. The other android shot him a dubious look, but didn’t insist. Hajime was grateful for it.

“Can I buy something?” he suddenly asked. Suga’s mouth made a perfect “o” of surprise, but his lips quickly stretched into a bright smile.

“Of course! What would you want?”

 

*

 

Hajime stood still for a very long time in front of the house’s door, the shopping bag silent and uninterested at his left, the small bouquet of purple pansies in his right hand.

After what felt like a ridiculous long time and after receiving a fair number of curious looks from by-passers, Hajime eventually took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. He heard the clear ringing resonate in the hall on the other side of the door and waited for footsteps.

They didn’t come.

Hesitant, he rang a second time. Maybe his master didn’t hear it the first time?

Or maybe he just didn’t want him to –

Hajime frowned and shook his head. He wasn’t going down that road.

But when seconds stretched into minutes and still no one came, Hajime started feeling his heart pace rise again, and a cold shiver went down his spine.

_Maybe he’s out_ , he told himself. He had no idea where his master could have gone at that hour though, and the streets weren’t safe at night, what if he – 

Carefully placing the flowers behind his back, Hajime pressed his face to the glass on the door and squinted. In the semi-obscurity, the moonlight and street lamps still let him discern a few things. After a short moment of adjustment, the android caught the shape he was looking for on the small table by the door and sighed in relief. His master’s keys were there. He was home.

He was safe.

Why wasn’t he answering the door, then?

As the minutes passed in silence, Hajime glanced more and more at the doorbell. Maybe he should ring again? Would it really change something?

He suddenly noticed that his left hand was unconsciously fiddling with his jacket’s buttons and he jerked it away with a groan. This wasn’t going anywhere.

He knew that his master didn’t like being bothered when he wanted to be alone. And if there was one thing Hajime had caught of the human’s mood earlier, it was that he definitely wanted to be left alone for the moment.

After a few more minutes of restless staring at the doorbell, Hajime eventually sighed and passed a tired hand on his face. He would have to wait.

He didn’t have anywhere to go anyway.

He lightly pushed the shopping bag to one side of the threshold and sat on the couple of stairs leading to the door. The night was getting cold, and his jacket wasn’t protecting him from the bite of the wind. He glanced at the bread and milk poking out from the bag and at the flowers, and figured that probably no one would want to steal them anyway.

Hajime folded his legs and pulled his knees against his chest, firmly encircling them with his arms. Then he closed his eyes and reached for a button behind his neck. As he slowly faded into sleep mode, a voice quietly rose from the depths of his blurry mind, soft and familiar.

 

_Good night, Iwa-chan._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. However, I'll ask you once again to watch over me, believe me, I'll be needing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought he'd be fine as long as Hajime would be with him. He'd give his best friend a new life.  
> He was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is my part, and set at from Oikawa's point of view ~ Finally we get to know what happened to Hajime-kun 8D
> 
> Enjoy ~

 Oikawa knew he was in the wrong. He knew it. It was his idea after all … selfishly wanting Iwaizumi to stay by his side. Fate has been too cruel on him, and he knew he'd lose his mind if he didn't have Iwaizumi – if Iwaizumi wasn't here. Gods have answered his prayer by developping the Persocom series, but it wouldn't be fair to have a computer replace someone who was once alive. It was like a trade, really. You can have him, but it won't be him. He has the same face, the same features, you can even have his personnality. But you'll forever know that it's not him. It's not your childhood friend. It's not the one who knew you better than anything else, that you knew better than anything else. He's a different being, wearing the same face.

You'll know it. You'll regret it.

Oikawa regretted it everyday, as he walked past the fridge, and the persocom on the other side of the room. Sometimes, he would eventually forget that it's not his Iwa-chan. He really wished he would forget it completely, but no. It would be horrible to forget Iwaizumi Hajime. An irrespect of his being, of his life. Of his love. But mostly, he doesn't wish that he would forget that his persocon isn't Hajime, no. He wished that he would forget that his most important person in the world died, and that he took a stupid industrial product to replace him. He was really ridiculous. He even managed to go against the rules of robotic, and make his persocon knock him into his senses whenever some vibration of his voice showed. He remembered Hajime explaining it to him, nonchalently, one time when he had difficulties with his life, and couldn't talk to him. He explained clearly that it was a fact that he knew him. Every changes on his face, each vibration of his voice, each actions he'll mindlessly do. That's how he managed to know something was wrong. It was this, and that. And the fact that he was Oikawa Tooru, and he was Iwaizumi Hajime.

Laws of robotic were universally known as

  1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

  2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

  3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.




Those were simple rules. Not much, clear, short and simple rules. But because he's selfish, he had to break them, didn't he ? Otherwise, he wouldn't have Iwaizumi back. Otherwise, he would have lose his mind. That's what happens when you wish for too much, it breaks you.

So he had to snap, one day. One day, when he had to see this face again. One day, when he came closer to him, again. One day when he came to help him. When it was once too gentle, too off … When it just looked like an imposter. His day has been rough and his vision blurred, and he never felt this sick of someone since when he met Kageyama. But this one was different because … it had Iwaizumi's face. And he'd never thought he'd be so tired of seeing Iwaizumi.

“OUT !”

He threw a plate at him, wishing he would scar this face, he would rip this fake face off. He just wished he wasn't so egoist.

“I don’t want to see your face anymore – GET OUT !”

He saw the fear in Hajime's eyes. He was staring at him, confused of his actions. He rushed toward the door and left.

He was now alone, once again. He really … didn't last long, didn't he ?

He buried his face in his legs, shaking. His mood swings got even worse since he got Hajime. He was happy to have someone so helpful beside him. He had his happy moments where he thought it could even be his child. But it was wrong. It was so – so wrong.

He's an idiot. Stupid. Asshole. Selfish. Egoistic. Naive. That's what he is. Really … a horrible human being, who deserved nothing, and got his only raison d'être ripped away. He was happy to know he could give a second life to his best friend, but it wasn't -

It wasn't Iwaizumi Hajime. The man who could hit him any moment to knock some sense to him. It was not the man who would insult him. Care for him. Not the man he loved and couldn't even say it once …

How could he be so naive as to think he could selfishly have him again ? If he were there …

If Iwaizumi Hajime were here, what would his reaction be ?

No, he couldn't forget him. After his death, Iwaizumi lived in his memory. He was still alive in his memory. He was talking to him, yelling at him, smiling at him, comforting him. In no way he would slip away. In no way he would abandon him again.

Oikawa braced himself and started to think of his best friend. No, not just thinking. Remember him. His smile. His hair. His spike. His touch. His kindness. His warmth. He wanted to feel everything once again. Even just a little bit. Even if it's an illusion. Please God, don't take him away a second time …

 

*

 

It was a just a normal day, when it happened. The day before, they did the usual. They kissed, they cuddled, Oikawa wished Iwaizumi good night, before getting back on his work. It was just this day of the month that happened sometimes, but they got used to this lifestyle. Morning came, Iwaizumi drank his coffee and Oikawa was still sleeping. Nothing looked wrong. That's why he never thought it would happen just like this.

The sound of a screech made Oikawa open his eyes suddenly.

And when he woke up, he was all alone, in this room way too big for one person. There was so much space, it choked him. Morning lights hit his face, his cheek hitting a bit for sleeping uncomfortably on the table. He cried all night like a child, shaking so much he thought he would not sleep any sooner. He straightened his back and it has never felt so lonely before. Silence wrapped the room. He could only hear himself breathing, and breathing louder, in a bit of panic.

« Hajime ? » he called. No answer. He searched in the kitchen.

No one.

He felt his heart being heavy, and had a weird flashback. A moment of nostalgia hit him at his worst time.

It already happened once.

« Hajime ?! » he called louder, walking to the corridor.

Wasn't it enough ? Did he not suffer enough ?

« Hajime ! » he started to run, memories overwhelming him.

That night, he worked until really late in the morning. He fell asleep on his desk.

« Hajime !! »

Iwaizumi always worked early in the morning, and like everyday at this period, he went to check on Oikawa.

« Hajime, please answer me !! »

He felt a kiss on his forehead.

« This is an order !! »

He woke up at exactly ten in the morning. There was a blanket on him, and by this, he just knew that Iwaizumi will always be here, watching over him.

« Hajime !! »

He was wrong.

And then again today, at ten in the morning and such, no one were here. He couldn't breath anymore. His throat tightened. His head felt dizzy. He wanted to throw up under this faint light covered by a grey sky. Why does this keep happening. Whenever he found the good colours, whenever he found a good pace, everything turned grey. It was colourless, and only one remained. A red one. An ugly red one. Even after years after, it will still chase him.

He shook this idea off his head. Hajime couldn't die. He had to think. He was just a an android. A robot. He can't bleed. He can't die. He can't, he can't, he can't –

He needed some fresh air - needed to breathe. Opening the door, a nice scent took him by surprise.

Flowers. There were a beautiful bouquet at the foot of the door.

« I'm sorry. I hope you'll feel better » was written on a card, in a clear handwriting that a regular human wouldn't have. He looked around.

« Hajime ? » he tried. No answer.

« Hajime !! » he opened the main portal.

There he was, in sleeping mode, leaning against the wall. He stayed here all night, out, respecting Oikawa's words like the dumb guy he is. What a fool. Tears started rolling on his cheeks without him noticing, before a slow breeze wiped the traces cold. He was there. Safe and sound. He hugged the android, who immediately woke up at the sudden warmth wrapping him. It looked silently straight at him, without saying a word. Oikawa could feel himself falling apart.

« Thanks God … Thank God, you're safe ! » he stuttered. Many feelings mixed inside of him, twisting his tongue, and making his throat ache. He let everything go. It was the moment. He had to.

« I'm sorry – I shouldn't have … I'm sorry, please forgive me – Forgive me. Don't – don't leave me alone. Not again. Don't you dare go away again. Please, please … Don't abandon me. It's scary. This house – it's too heavy. It's waytoo big for one person ... » he started to cry out, not letting go of Hajime. He didn't know what to say after what happened the day before. Did he even make sense ? Would an android with no feelings would understand someone as complicated and contradictious as Oikawa Tooru, when himself couldn't ?

He felt a sudden hugging back. His android took him tightly in his arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and he felt warm. Hajime rubbed his back and let Oikawa cry in silence.

« I won't go. I would never leave you alone, so don't worry. »

And just those words, pronounced by this mouth, with this voice, was enough to make Oikawa calm down, even a little.

« That's ... »

_What Iwa-chan would do, right ?_

His heart ache. He broke the embracement and looked at the android straight in the eyes. Hajime meant no harm, he knew that. And he could see he tried his best to please him, in every way that he could. He bought purple pansies and a pack of milk. He stayed away from him just like he said, when he was at his worst. He was a good guy.

But he was not Iwa-chan. He's a part of him, but not a whole. A part of what Oikawa knew, and remembered. A fragment, a memory. A prayer – that's what he was. A selfish prayer.

Hajime looked really worried, and Oikawa knew perfectly why. Anyone would be. He cried, but it was not of joy, neither because he was hurt. Himself didn't know why his tears wouldn't stop.

« I don't know … I don't know. I have no idea …. I just – why can't I remember ? Why can't I – why, why ... »

And at this moment, he wished he could have been a persocon. Not aging, not dying, no feelings … being able to control his memories.

Iwaizumi Hajime once disappeared from his life, and now he was slipping from his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the sudden change from " " to «  », but Open Office won't let me do otherwise lol
> 
> Hope you liked this side story ! I'll write the remaining of the Daisuga fic later. I have it all in mind, don't worry, and I do plan on continuing it u3u
> 
> Thanks for reading !!


End file.
